Yet if my thoughts could be confin'd To follow any leader-mind, I'd mark thy fteps, and tread the fame : Dreft in thy notions I'd appear Not like a foul of mortal frame, Men live at random and by chance, Bright reason never leads the dance; While in the broad and beaten way O'er dales and hills from truth we ftray, Aloof the climbs her steepy feat, Meer hazard first began the track, In willing chains and strong; There's fcarce one bold, one noble mind, But hand in hand ourfelves we bind, And drag the age along. Mortals, a favage herd, and loud VOL. LVI. F In In rapid order roll: Example makes the mischief good: Me let* Ithuriel's friendly wing Snatch from the crowd, and bear fublime Thence to furvey that wretched thing, Blefs the delivering power. To the REVEREND MR. JOHN HOWE. GREAT man, permit the Mufe to climb And feat her at thy feet, Bid her attempt a thought fublime, And confecrate her wit. I feel, I feel th' attractive force Of thy fuperior foul: My chariot flies her upward course, The wheels divinely roll. Now let me chide the mean affairs And mighty toil of men : How they grow grey in trifling cares, Or waste the motions of the fpheres Upon delights as vain! *The name of an angel in Milton's Paradife Loft. 1704 A puff A puff of honour fills the mind, And yellow duft is solid good; Thus, like the ass of savage kind, We fnuff the breezes of the wind, That charm the poles But ftrike one doleful found, 'Twould be employ'd to mourn our fouls, Souls that were fram'd of fprightly fires In floods of folly drown'd. Souls made of glory feek a brutal joy; How they disclaim their heavenly birth, Oft has thy genius rous'd us hence With elevated fong, Bid us renounce this world of fenfe, Bid us divide th' immortal prize With the feraphic throng: "Knowledge and love makes fpirits bleft, Knowledge their food, and love their reft;" But flesh, th' unmanageable beaft, Refifts the pity of thine eyes, And music of thy tongue. Then let the worms of groveling mind Howe hath an ample orb of foul, Where fhining worlds of knowledge roll, The DISAPPOINTMENT and RELIEF. VIRTUE, permit my fancy to impose She cafts fweet fallacies on half our woes, How could we bear this tedious round Of flaming hopes, and chilling fears, Love, the most cordial stream that flows, Is a deceitful good: Young Doris, who nor guilt nor danger knows, Pleas'd with the golden bubbles as they rofe, And with more golden fands her fancy pav'd the flood: And tempted by a faithlefs youth, And rears the nether mud: Dark Darkness and naufeous dregs arife O'er thy fair current, love, with large fupplies Of pain to teaze the heart, and forrow for the eyes, Is dafh'd, and drown'd, and loft: Shines here and there, amidst the night, Amidst the turbid waves, and gives a faint delight, Recover'd from the fad furprise, Doris awakes at last, Grown by the difappointment wife; With humble love the meets his wrathful eyes, |